The Golden Armor
by BlueApollo
Summary: This is my first fanfic, so it's based off PJO and it's still a freewrite so I'll get the plot points in here when I get further into it...
1. Floating Words

Chapter 1

Floating Words

I hated it. The textbook was laying on my lap, its jaws wide open to my confused eyes. Its teeth of words seemed to float in midair as I futilely attempted to arrange them correctly and understand. As usual, I failed miserably. I sighed in disappointment. I was going to fail on that stupid English test tomorrow.

They had called it Dyslexia. The doctors, that is. My mother had dragged me to a doctor's office, following the advice of a concerned school nurse (I believe she just wanted me dragged into the loony bin and kept as far away from her as possible), and he and the other doctors that had examined me all agreed: I had Dyslexia. I, though, seriously don't believe it. Words floating around off the page? That was something other than Dyslexia, I just knew it.

Finally, I closed the terrible jaws of my textbook and leaned back in my chair. I had to do well on that test. If I failed it, then I was sure to be expelled. Again. This would be the fourth school that would expel me for academic failure. That humiliating day loomed ever so near as I nervously waited for the next day's test.

Fatigued, I carelessly dumped my textbook on the floor, stumbled out of my chair, and collapsed on my bed. In a few minutes, I was instantly asleep.

The next morning arrived, and, much to my dismay, we received that dreaded

English test. Beads of sweat began to gather at my forehead. It was a multiple choice test. I hated those. I could never read the answers, let alone the question. It was always easier for me to write the answer myself than to have to read it and answer it.

I'll admit it. I was desperate. I would never have done it under normal circumstances, but today it was just too much. The most intelligent girl in the class was sitting right next to me. With my peripheral vision, I could just barely make out the answers she was circling as she effortlessly went through the test. I began to circle what she was circling, copying her answers onto my paper and praying that they were correct.

I didn't know how it happened, but I found myself leaning really close to the girl I was cheating off of. I guess that I needed a better view of her answers or something, but she finally noticed me and shouted, "Miss Hendricks! James is cheating off my paper!"

Oh.

Great.

I was caught.

I pulled myself back into a normal position and stared down at my test like nothing had happened, but it was too late. The rest of the class had seen me, and Miss Hendricks was marching right towards my desk.

"Jamison Lewis, is that true?" Her face was right next to my ear. I tried to hide my disappointment at being caught, but it was no use. I looked up and it felt like the words academic dishonesty were written all over my face. Miss Hendricks snatched up my paper and gently lifted the smart girl's paper and compared our answers. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't; I had to see what she was thinking. Her face transformed from that of her "I'm an investigator and you're gonna be in trouble" expression to her "PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE NOW!" expression. One glare was all it took to have me stumbling between the rows of seats and racing out of the classroom. I could hear the murmuring of the class and even some laughter as I slammed the door to the classroom shut and dashed down the hallway towards the principal's office to await punishment. I knew that by the time I got there, he would already be informed of my misdeed.

I was, to my utter disappointment, correct. It took me three minutes to run away from my classroom. It was slow, yes, considering how small the campus is, but I always did have weak legs anyway. As I opened the door to the principal's office, I peered in and there he was, leaning back in his chair with that expression on his face with one eyebrow raised and his eyes in a fixed, steady glare that already told you one thing: trouble. I sucked in my breath and prepared myself to plead my case, that I just couldn't handle the classes and that he shouldn't expel me, just please let me stay, but I stopped myself short. He wasn't going to ever believe that. I had been expelled from other schools before, too. I knew he was looking forward to this very moment.

I finally stepped into his office, my head hanging low and my shoulders sagging as I shuffled to the seat before his oak desk that was neatly piled with sorted papers ready to go on their way to teachers and staff.

"Jamison Lewis," he began. I gritted my teeth. I always hated it when people used my full name. Can't they see that James is so much easier to say? "What were you doing in Miss Hendricks' class today?"

Oh, great! He wanted _me _to explain to _him_ what I had done. He was going to drag this out as long as possible. I knew he wanted to torture me, and making me explain what I had done was only the beginning.

I kept my mouth shut. I didn't even look up. I would not fall for that trick. He'd have me wrapped around his finger the moment I started talking. No, he was not going to torment me, not if I could stop it, so I didn't say a word.

"Well?" I hated that tone of voice he got when he said that one word. I had heard him use it a few other times on some of the troublemakers at school, and he always got an answer from even the best of them. This silence was just so, well, silent, I guess. He was using it against me, though, I just knew it. I had to resist.

"Do we have to call your mother into the office?" Still silent. I was not going to break. Not for a long time.

My mother arrived about twenty minutes later. I had still not spoken a word, and I could see the fury hidden by her sad, miserable expression. Tonight was going to be terrible.

"Well?" Once again he used that tone of voice. Once again, I was silent. "Are you going to talk?" Still nothing. My mom glanced hopefully at me.

"Please say something, dear," she begged. I wasn't fooled by her fake pleading. She was just trying to look like the concerned mother with a very troubled child, but I knew she wanted to get rid of me. I was different from everybody else, that's why she hated me so much. At least, that's what I had managed to figure out, and it was my only reason but it always seemed to work.

Finally, the principal sighed and handed my mother a small slip of paper.

"You are dismissed, Jamison," he said as he gave me one final glare. I stood up, glared right back at him as defiantly as I could, and marched out the door and out of the school. My mom, who was acting _so _disappointed in me, rushed out behind me with "nervous" smiles (so fake!) at the staff that were sitting, half wondering why she was there and half not caring, and looking just as bored as ever.


	2. Goat Boy

Chapter 2

Goat Boy

My mom slammed a small sheet of paper onto the dashboard of her Porsche Cayman. I recognized it as the one the principal had given to her and immediately snatched it up so I could read it.

"Another one!" my mom screamed. "Another one, Jamison!" Great, now she was using my full name, too. When would it end?

I wasn't listening to her, though. I was too busy staring at that sheet of paper. It had OTCEIN FO PXUSONELI written at the very top in big, bold letters. I easily sorted it out in my mind, for I had seen the same title on other papers before. A notice of expulsion. So I was right. I was expelled.

Great.

Again.

All the way home I was silent. My mother continued to scream and shout and scream and shout at me. I was half-expecting her face to turn purple and maybe she would even get in an accident (her eyes weren't even on the road the whole way home). I ignored her. She had done this the last time, and the time before. It was the same words too.

"I _can't _believe you got expelled. AGAIN!" and

"Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me?" and

"How could you? How _dare _you?" and my personal favorite

"You're the one thing in my life that _isn't _perfect, do you know that?"

All the way home it was those same words, plus a few others that I have omitted due to some of her, well, profane language. When we finally did pull into the driveway at _her _house (that's right, when I said that it was _our _house one time, she yelled at me and I never said it again), I leapt out of the car and ran, well, kind of limped, to my room. I had had enough of that woman.

During the ride in the car, I had thought long and hard (trust me, the drive home from school is at least a good twenty minutes), and I had decided that I was done. I was going to run away from my mom and my super-rich (and extremely snooty) stepdad and find somewhere else to live. I could go into foster care or something, lie to the government about my identity and say I was stupid or forgetful or something. I could pull it off considering I was Dyslexic. They would believe me if I couldn't read. Besides, foster care sounded so much better than what I was living with now.

I stumbled into my room and snatched my suitcase from its cramped position in my cluttered closet. I tore it open and threw the dirty laundry that was still in it from our last "family vacation" onto the floor and turned to my drawers. I began angrily stuffing clothes into my suitcase as I muttered to myself about my mom, my stepdad, my life, my school, and basically everything that sucked in general.

I didn't notice the visitor watching me from the window, though.

"Hey!" I jumped. What in the world was that? I wondered. I heard a knock on my window and saw a face looking in. I couldn't tell how old he was, for he had a somewhat young face, but he had hints of facial hair. It was like looking at an eighth grader that had somehow found puberty early, or puberty just found him early. He wore a hate over his brown, curly hair, and he waved when I finally noticed him. I just stared back.

"Open the window!" I could hear him through the thin glass of the window, but I was apprehensive. What could he possibly want that demanded that I open the window? Oh, well. I opened the window. What was the worst that could happen?

"Thanks," he said as he clambered through the window. Quite akwardly, I must add. His legs seemed, well, I can't really explain it, but not normal.

"I'm sorry, but what could you possibly want right now? I'm packing," I scowled at him as he brushed off his pants and took in his new surroundings.

"You're packing? Already? I haven't told you where you're even going yet! How could you possibly know that you're supposed to be leaving?" he said.

"I'm running- Wait! What do you mean you haven't even told me where _I'm _going yet? What's going on? What are you doing here?"

"What? She hasn't told you yet?"

"Told me what?"

"You're a Demigod!"

"A Demi-what?"

"A Demigod. You're half-human, half-god, you idiot! I can't believe you don't even know what that is. It's so simple! Didn't you ever pay attention in school?"

"Wait, you mean to say that my dad is God? Like, _the _God? Am I like Jesus or something?"

"What? No, you idiot!" I could tell the guy was getting impatient and annoyed with me. "You're the son of a Greek god! Did your mother ever even tell you who he was?"

"The Greek gods exist?" Well, religion was about to be flipped upside down, I thought. Man, if the rest of the world knew this, I couldn't even imagine what would happen.

"What did you expect I meant? Of course they do! You have to get going if you want to get to the camp on time!"

"Wait, can you slow down or something? I'm really beginning to think you're nuts." I seriously was.

"Did-your-mother-tell-you-what-you-really-are?" he said slowly.

"Uhhh, no?"

"Did she ever tell you who your real father was?" I dug deep in my memories. I knew she had mentioned him once, saying that I was so much more like him instead of her "great" self. I glanced at my weak legs and suddenly remembered.

"It was, like, something that started with an H, I believe." Well, I tried to remember at least.

"Hmmm, you might be a son of Hermes, but..." he began to mumble to himself aimlessly as I stood by and watched him, wondering what he was thinking about.

I decided to interrupt his thoughts and said, "So, wait, how do you know all this stuff and what I am and everything? I mean, we've never even met before."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. You know, I'm usually a very polite satyr."

"Satyr?"

"Yes." He pulled up his right pant leg to reveal a goat-like leg. "Oh, by the way, my name's Ranger."

"Ranger?" I laughed. "What kind of name is that?" Ranger blushed as he stared down at the ground and waited for my laughter to subside.

"I never chose it, James, just remember that." The sudden serious calm that fell over the situation forced my mind to focus on what I was supposed to be doing: packing. I was already going to run away, so I might as well go to this camp place with Ranger. He seemed nice enough anyway.

"You're still going?" he finally piped up when I began to shove clothes into my suitcase.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, I don't know..."

I finished packing. "Let's go!"

"You're not even going to say good-bye to your family?"

"No!" One dark glance was all it took to convince Ranger that I was not going to tell my parents I was leaving. They would lose their tax breaks if I left, and they just loved their tax breaks! More random junk for them!

We both crawled through the window of my room. It was only on the first floor, and we rolled out onto the grass and began to crawl along the ground well beneath view from the many windows that adorned the mansion my parents and I inhabited. Well, I used to inhabit. I held my breath as I ducked beneath the windows, praying that nobody would notice my presence, especially not Ranger's presence either. They would probably never get over seeing a teenage boy crawling with his knees bent backward. That's seriously how he looked like, and I attempted to stifle a laugh each time I looked up to see where he was leading me.


End file.
